2016
The party’s over. Day 4
30 October 2016
Life back to normal but still have the adrenalin hangover! Woke at 5am, ready to roll, but nowhere to roll to except the school run with Jasmin and to hit the shops with Cathy and Janet. Did not need to rush to record the events of yesterday's final day of sessions, so here I am, in the afternoon, post nap, putting fingers to keypad.
The day began with a panel of writers on the migrant experience. Mind you, the wonderfully erudite, self-confessed atheist Indian writer only migrated 11 kilometres across Bombay as a child, but into a totally different language milieu (English language school). The dinky-die, Akubra-wearing Aussie writer, Chris Raja, with a broad drawl turned out to have migrated from India as a child. The woman novelist was of Lithuanian heritage, South African born and living in London. A lively discussion that veered off the topic most delightfully.
Not one, but two Big-Name women writers! First, American Hanya Yanagihara, whose novel, ranging over three decades in the friendship of four NY guys, A Little Life, is a current best seller despite being about extreme child abuse. I was 3/4 of the way through reading it before leaving Australia and found it engrossing, but am terrified of the hinted-at revelation to come of what had actually been done to the highly complex character, Jude as a child to cause him such incurable physical pain and mental angst. (Too heavy to carry with me to finish during my travels - by no means a little book at 730 pages). The book asks a lot of the reader but Hanya explained that once we had engaged with Jude there was no turning away from his anguish. She was superb at parrying any of the criticisms by reviewers or difficult questions from the interviewer and audience. She had fought her editors to keep all 730 pages. (I must admit my face fell when my friend Anne presented me with such a long read as a birthday gift, but it IS an extraordinary book and a precious gift! Will be lending it out!
The day began with a panel of writers on the migrant experience. Mind you, the wonderfully erudite, self-confessed atheist Indian writer only migrated 11 kilometres across Bombay as a child, but into a totally different language milieu (English language school). The dinky-die, Akubra-wearing Aussie writer, Chris Raja, with a broad drawl turned out to have migrated from India as a child. The woman novelist was of Lithuanian heritage, South African born and living in London. A lively discussion that veered off the topic most delightfully.
Not one, but two Big-Name women writers! First, American Hanya Yanagihara, whose novel, ranging over three decades in the friendship of four NY guys, A Little Life, is a current best seller despite being about extreme child abuse. I was 3/4 of the way through reading it before leaving Australia and found it engrossing, but am terrified of the hinted-at revelation to come of what had actually been done to the highly complex character, Jude as a child to cause him such incurable physical pain and mental angst. (Too heavy to carry with me to finish during my travels - by no means a little book at 730 pages). The book asks a lot of the reader but Hanya explained that once we had engaged with Jude there was no turning away from his anguish. She was superb at parrying any of the criticisms by reviewers or difficult questions from the interviewer and audience. She had fought her editors to keep all 730 pages. (I must admit my face fell when my friend Anne presented me with such a long read as a birthday gift, but it IS an extraordinary book and a precious gift! Will be lending it out!
Second was young Australian, Hannah Kent whose poetic novel, Burial Rites, set in early 19th C Iceland, took the world by storm. Now her second novel, The Good People (a reference to Irish folklore's wicked fairies) appears set to do the same. There was talk of, but no admission from Hannah, that she has a million dollar book deal. If so it has not gone to her head. She is a delight to listen to. And to read - though perhaps "delight" is not the best word as her stories are bleak, but the language is bliss! This hour long interview with ABC's Michael Cathcart will be broadcast on Books and Arts some time next week, so listen in.
The big treat was at the very end of the day - as if one needed further treats - and that was a memorial to Madé Wijaya aka Mike White - famous/ notorious Balinese expat since the 70s who died suddenly in Sydney recently. He was there being treated for lymphoma and had a good prognosis when he suddenly succumbed to some drastic infection and was dead within 24 hours. A huge shock to his enormous circle of friends here, both Balinese and expat. I have met him a few times over the years and seen his often outrageous performances at various UWRFs in the past. Several Ubud expats and Balinese Wayan Juniarta, all of whom I know, spoke about him - no holds barred - he was known to be a generous friend but also could suddenly turn into a prize bitch, according to the speakers. He was of course gay, and an extremely colourful character - literally – we were shown a brilliant film made up of highly colourful still photos, many of him in drag, posing outrageously - all set to songs such as Dame Edna singing, "You're So Vain!" Madé had actually made the film himself !! Not in anticipation of his death, I might add, but it made an hilarious introduction to the proceedings yesterday and set the tone for the speeches to follow. Anyone in the audience who had not known him wished they had! Diana Darling who had met Madé back in the 70s recalled those idyllic times in a lyrical piece of writing that is a work of art. Madé was an architect, landscape designer, author, regular columnist (his "Stranger in Paradise" articles in "Hello Bali" magazine are famous) and recorder of Balinese rituals. Many of the gardens of the grand hotels in Bali are his designs - and he did David Bowie's garden in Mustique too! As they said, the session yesterday "Remembering Madé Wijaya" was mis-titled. Madé is unforgettable. Vale, Madé!
We said goodbye to Amanda yesterday, and Cathy, Fabia, Janet and I celebrated our four days of intense literary pleasure with a dinner at the oddly-named (for a Balinese restaurant) Savannah Moon, and bumped into Ian and Jeffrey with folk from the Black Armada exhibition who had chosen the same place. Some went on to the big farewell party, but not me. An extravaganza of light and sound and pretty amazing, according to the indefatigable Cathy, but not my thing.
So it is back to the quiet life for the next couple of days before I fly home on Wednesday. This has to have been one of the best festivals yet. But I say that every time!
So it is back to the quiet life for the next couple of days before I fly home on Wednesday. This has to have been one of the best festivals yet. But I say that every time!